


Stories About Someone

by fukujoshi (charmed7293)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anxiety, Arranged Marriage, Bedding Ceremony, Dark Victor Nikiforov, Ice Skating, Implied Mpreg, Intersex Omegas, M/M, Misunderstandings, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Parent-Child Relationship, Politics, Secret Santa, but like SoftDark, in the background - Freeform, there's still some
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 15:45:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17144567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmed7293/pseuds/fukujoshi
Summary: Yuuri has heard stories about the ruler of the neighboring kingdom. A cold and distant alpha, he rules with an iron fist. Anyone who slights him is met with swift retribution; he has left entire empires crumbling and burning in his wake.And this king has chosen Yuuri to be his mate.





	Stories About Someone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nyerus (dragonmist310)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonmist310/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, Nye!
> 
> Sorry for the longer wait on this, but I hope it's worth it. Enjoy the fic! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

Yuuri has heard stories about the ruler of the neighboring kingdom. A cold and distant alpha, he rules with an iron fist. Anyone who slights him is met with swift retribution; he has left entire empires crumbling and burning in his wake. Only a few nations have been spared the ruin of his wrath, including Yuuri’s own, though he’s sure they’ve escaped notice simply due to their relative insignificance. They trade a paltry amount of luxury items for food and comply with all the trade deals so as to not draw attention to themselves.

Be that as it may, they still receive an official announcement that the king is in need of a consort. All nations are permitted to present a member of their nobility—capable of carrying the king’s heirs, of course—for consideration. The biggest draw is the promise of an alliance with his intended’s home nation. Protection against destruction is a tempting reward and Yuuri fears it’s only a matter of time before the king sets his sights on their small nation. They would be easily conquered and then forced to hand over their goods for nothing in return. His people would starve.

So Yuuri insists that his parents send an offer to the king. It’s not much, especially compared to those of the other nations. Surely, they will promise first-borns and female omegas much more fertile than himself. But Mari is a female alpha, even less likely to bear children than a male omega such as himself, not that they could spare her as their heir anyway. Yuuri will have to do. It’s for the best.

But Yuuri has heard stories about the ruler of the neighboring kingdom and he is scared.

* * *

Somehow, the king has chosen _him_. Out of all the nations, out of all the nobility, out of all the offers—it is _Yuuri_ who has caught the king’s eye. Or rather his scent that has pleased the alpha’s nose.

Yuuri thinks of the stories he has heard about the ruler of the neighboring kingdom: his ruthlessness, his domineering attitude, his disregard for those around him. And soon Yuuri will be under his control.

* * *

Yuuri feels out of place as soon as he arrives. Everyone here is tall and willowy, pale and beautiful. Yuuri is of average height in his own country, if a bit pudgier than most. Here, he feels as small as a child. He’s treated like one as well. There’s nary a moment he is alone. Someone is always lecturing him or measuring him or evaluating him. Because of the vast distance between their two nations, travel ate up much time. Now the ceremony is only a month away and they must make sure he’s prepared. His head spins with learning everything about this kingdom, from manners to customs to history to language. He’s not given proper time to absorb all this new information. He’s keeping up as best he can—he must, for his people—yet he can’t help but feel inadequate. There hasn’t been a night he doesn’t fall onto his bed with a headache.

Of all the people marching through his quarters day after day, not one of them has been his future husband. He’s only seen the king sparingly and he never so much as glanced in Yuuri’s direction.

(In all the stories he’s heard about the ruler of this kingdom, not one of them have mentioned how handsome he is and that is a huge oversight.)

Yuuri is not sure if this separation some kind of tradition he has yet to learn or if the king is busy with his own matters. The kingdom still needs to be run after all.

It’s either one of those or…

Yuuri has always been mentally weak. He can’t help the dark thoughts that seep into his brain when he lets his mind wander during lessons. Maybe the king caught a glimpse of Yuuri and was intensely dissatisfied. Now he feels tricked and is planning to not only break their engagement, but also enact retribution against Yuuri’s family for lying to him.

Sometimes, he is able to dismiss those thoughts. If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that gossip travels fast here. If the king was truly planning to get rid of him, Yuuri would have heard something by now. (He’s heard many new stories about the ruler of this kingdom, mostly mundane. One morning, he refused to break his fast because of slightly undercooked eggs. The palace had a new head chef by the midday meal and no one knows the true fate of the previous one, though each speculation is more wild than the last.)

The gossip may be quiet on the subject of the king’s plans for Yuuri, but there’s still the whispers of his own traitorous mind, which tell him how shameful it is that his future husband does not even desire to meet before their wedding.

* * *

One day, Yuuri finds himself with a free afternoon. His history tutor has fallen ill with this winter’s first bout of flu; Yuuri feels bad for the man, but not enough that he’s disappointed at having some time to himself. After his lunchtime etiquette lesson, he rushes through the cold hallways, eager to retreat to the warmth of his rooms and barely paying attention to passersby. They’re mostly workers or guards, hurrying along just as quickly as he is. As he turns into a new hallway, he’s vaguely aware of a larger group walking toward him, but doesn’t pay them any mind until—

“Yuuri?”

That voice…

He’s only heard it from a distance and certainly never saying his name, but those syllables fall from the king’s lips as if he has practiced them a thousand times. Yuuri looks up properly to see that the group—the king and his advisors—are right in front of him.

“Y-your Majesty,” he stammers, automatically bending into a deep bow. He’s practically parallel to the floor and staring at his shoes when it occurs to him that this is a custom from his own home nation. It could be seen as some kind of assertion that Yuuri’s culture is superior or an indication that Yuuri has been slacking off with his lessons. He’s not only made a fool out of himself with his stuttering, but also insulted the king’s culture—and all within their first real meeting!

The king chuckles softly and hands clasp his shoulders, gently guiding him back into a standing position. Yuuri feels his ears turn red at that mocking laughter and he can’t bring himself to look at the king.

“No need for any of that. Please, call me ‘Viktor.’”

He sounds so genuine. Yuuri gathers enough courage to peek up at him. A soft smile graces his face and his expression could overall be summed up as “fond.” His hands slide from Yuuri’s shoulders, trailing down his arms to entwine their fingers.

“Bowing…that’s from your home nation, isn’t it? I’ve been practicing your language. I have to admit I’m not very good, but I believe _hajimemashite_ is the correct phrase for this situation.”

Yuuri stares soundlessly. He knows he’s gaping impolitely, but his mind is too scrambled with attempting to process that the king— _Viktor_ —knows anything about his home, much less the customs or language.

“Was I wrong? I apologize if I said something offensive. I was so sure…”

Viktor looks worried and his fingers start to slip from Yuuri’s. Panicked, Yuuri tightens his grip and forces himself to speak so he can reassure him. “No, no! It was perfect. I-I suppose I should say…um… _ochen priyatno_?”

He knows the pronunciation was absolutely butchered, yet the brightest smile lights up Viktor’s face and that makes the attempt worth it.

“Wonderful, Yuuri!” he exclaims, lifting their hands so they’re clutched against his chest. After a moment, a more melancholy expression slowly spreads over Viktor’s face, dampening his smile. “But I’m terribly sorry that we’ve had to wait this long to say such simple greetings to each other. Even now, our meeting is one of circumstance. I’ve been kept very busy since your arrival.”

At that, Viktor casts a glare at his advisors, who shift uncomfortably. Yuuri nearly forgot they were even there. How is he supposed to address them? Should he even address them? It apparently does not matter as Viktor is speaking to him once more.

“Oh, but it’s very fortunate that we’ve run into each other now. We’re just on our way to a council meeting and I’ve been told you’ve finished your law and government lessons. You should join us.”

Attend an official session? Is Viktor mad? They are not even wed yet…

An advisor seems to agree. He steps forward and says, “Your Majesty, with all due respect, are you sure it is wise to—”

“If you address me with the respect I am due, then why do you question my judgement?”

Viktor’s voice is cold, nothing like the tone he used with Yuuri. His grip on Yuuri’s hands has tightened slightly, though he’s not paying attention to him anymore. Viktor stares directly at the advisor with eyes like flecks of winter. They remind Yuuri of thin ice, a frozen layer hiding the terrifying depths beneath. One wrong step will cause it to crack.

The advisor must think the same, for he steps back into line with sycophantic ramblings. “Deepest apologies, Your Majesty. I meant nothing of the sort. Of course your intended is welcome to attend.”

Viktor’s gaze remains cold as it sweeps over the rest of the assembly, daring them to say anything. Everyone simply lowers their heads.

“Very well then.”

Yuuri’s legs are weak, threatening to give out, as Viktor turns back to him. He braces himself to for the winter storm.

“With that settled, allow me to escort you to the meeting chambers,” Viktor says, voice soft and gentle once again. It’s like spring has come, the warmth in his tone melting the ice in his eyes. His grip has slackened and he strokes his thumbs over Yuuri’s fingers. With a smile, Viktor drops Yuuri’s hands and offers him his arm instead.

Yuuri immediately takes it. If an advisor, one of the most trusted people in all the kingdom, can be spoken to so harshly, Yuuri doesn’t want to discover what his own refusal could bring. He can no longer see the ice in Viktor’s eyes, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. Black ice is the most dangerous kind, after all.

Somehow, they make it to the meeting chambers without further incident, either Yuuri collapsing or Viktor going cold again. The doors are opened for them and Viktor leads the group inside. He heads right for the raised dais opposite the doors, upon which sit two elaborate chairs. They pass through an aisle cut between long tables that curve gently around the dais and councilors who are already assembled rush to stand and offer greetings. Yuuri can feel their stares on him, but Viktor pays them no mind. His attention seems to be entirely focused on Yuuri, helping him up the short steps and into one of the chairs. He is hyper aware of the fact that he is sitting while the king stands; he remembers several lessons of seating etiquette, where he learned that none shall sit until the king does. No doubt this will give the councilors even more to talk about.

“Thank you,” Yuuri says, only a slight waver in his voice. Viktor’s hand lingers in his and, for a heart-stopping moment, Yuuri fears he’s been found out.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” Viktor says. “Don’t feel pressured to say anything, but if the urge strikes you, don’t hesitate to speak up.”

The vice around his heart loosens with Viktor’s incorrect assumption about the origin of his unease. Yuuri nods, not trusting his voice. Viktor gives him a soft look and brings Yuuri’s hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over his ring finger, before sitting in his own chair. Quiet murmurings fade and everyone turns their attention toward the front. With that, the meeting has begun.

There’s a call to order and the agenda is read. Yuuri is pleased to find he understands much of what’s being said; however, it’s all rather mundane and there’s enough gaps in his understanding that he finds his attention lapsing. He inwardly scolds himself. As a ruler, he shouldn’t be finding these dealings _boring_. Everything is important and it’s the tedious day-to-day tasks that support the rest of the kingdom.

Despite that, Yuuri finds his mind wandering. He wonders how often he will be expected to attend these meetings. As the consort, he’s not a true ruler here and he holds little political power. Even if his knowledge of the language increases and he can understand everything, what would he be able to contribute? There would be no weight to his words and no reason for anyone to listen. Yet Viktor encouraged him to speak. Yuuri ruminates on the purpose of such a thing until he hears the name of his own nation. He looks up to see a councillor standing.

“—have been claims their offer could not have been sufficient—”

“And what do you mean by that?”

Yuuri stiffens and his breath leaves him. Viktor’s voice is cold once more.

“W-well, Your Majesty…it’s-it’s just that some of the other nations are discontent,” the councillor explains, clearly uncomfortable. “They feel their offers were mo-more than generous and when they weren’t selected—”

“Everyone was permitted to submit offers, but there was no guarantee of acceptance. Did they think I would take on a score of consorts?” Viktor scoffs.

Yuuri swallows, trying to remain calm. He turns his head just enough to get a view of Viktor in his peripheral vision. There’s a slight tension around his eyes, which are glazed over with that layer of ice. He suppresses a shiver.

A throat is cleared and attention is turned toward the noise. An older man, another advisor, is rising from his chair. “Your Majesty,  I would just like to say that there may be some weight to their complaints.”

A wave of shocked murmurs passes through the room. Yuuri is taken aback as well; this man must not have been among the group in the hallway. None of them would have dared say such a thing when Viktor was already in a bad mood. Yuuri nervously glances at Viktor again, though his expression has remained unchanged.

The advisor takes the lack of response from Viktor as permission to continue, as opposed to a warning. “Your marriage could have been used to secure a more powerful alliance. We have not gained much from the offer you chose. It would have been more advantageous to—”

“Out.”

“Pardon me, Your Majesty?”

“Get. Out.”

“I-I’m not sure what you mean, Your Majesty.”

Yuuri winces. He can smell that the advisor is an alpha, which gives reason to his boldness, but it doesn’t explain how dense he is. Viktor isn’t shouting—he’s barely raised his voice beyond normal speaking volume, which could be considered _quiet_ for a chamber of this size—but his anger is obvious. Yuuri can practically _feel_ it.

“I don’t know how I could be more clear. I want you to leave.”

The advisor has the gall to be _surprised_ , eyes widening and mouth falling open. “I’m afraid I still don’t understand. I have served as an advisor to the royal family for many, many years—”

“And your service ends now. I suggest you leave if you want it to be the only thing ending today.”

A ringing silence follows Viktor’s words. The advisor opens and closes his mouth a few times. He looks desperately around the room, but no one will meet his eyes. Viktor sighs impatiently and gestures lazily with his hand. The pair of guards standing at attention near the doors step forward, heading for the advisor.

“It seems he desires more than exile. Guards, see to it that he gets his wish.”

Seeing the guards approaching him, the advisor snaps out of his daze and falls to his knees. “Your Majesty, please! I apologize, I apologize! I won’t speak out of turn again!”

“I’m sure you won’t,” Viktor says impassively.

No one speaks as the guards drag the snivelling and pleading advisor from the room. His cries for mercy are ignored and soon they are muffled by the closing of the doors.

“I will not have anyone speak disparagingly about either my decision on this matter or my intended himself,” Viktor says, casting his gaze around the room. He’s somehow even colder than before. “The next to do so will meet the same fate. Now what’s the next item on the agenda? I don’t have time for those petty concerns.”

The original councillor hesitantly stands up and resumes reading announcements. Yuuri can’t focus on a single word being said. He looks down to see his hands white-knuckled from gripping the sides of the chair. It takes everything he can not to break down right there. He can’t, not in front of all these people and certainly not in front of Viktor. What would he think of such a display of weakness? Surely he wouldn’t want someone like that as a consort and it would only be a matter of time until he joins the advisor. He’s heard stories about the king, but now he’s _experiencing_ them and it’s more terrifying than he ever imagined.

“—ri? Yuuri?”

He snaps his head up to see Viktor standing over him. His heart races. How long was he calling Yuuri’s name? What is the punishment for being ignored like that? He didn’t do it on purpose of course, but—

“Are you okay? The meeting wasn’t _too_ boring, was it?”

It’s said in a joking tone, but it increases Yuuri’s panic anyway. “It wasn’t boring at all!”

“Oh, of course it was! I was bored myself.” Viktor laughs. “But having you beside me made it all bearable.”

Viktor takes Yuuri’s hand to raise it to his mouth for a kiss. He frowns and stops halfway, rubbing Yuuri’s fingers with his own.

“Your hands are freezing! I didn’t even think about how cold it must be for you. You’re used to much warmer temperatures. I’m so sorry, Yuuri.” Distress bleeds into Viktor’s tone and posture. He frantically looks around, as if the solution is written on the walls of the meeting chamber.

Yuuri hadn’t even realized the chill. It's certainly warmer than in the hallways, so he’s sure the coldness of his hands is a result of his fear, but it's best to let Viktor think he needed to be taken care of.

“Let’s get you back to your room.”

Viktor pulls him to his feet and unfastens his own cloak. Yuuri watches with confusion until there’s a flurry of fabric and something heavy settles over his shoulders. He gives a small gasp in surprise and finds himself suddenly unable to think straight. With Viktor’s cloak draped over him, an intoxicating scent surrounds him. Ice, mint, some kind of spice he often tastes in his food here—it all scrambles his mind. Viktor pulls the cloak tight around him and wraps an arm around his waist. Yuuri is vaguely aware that the guards from earlier are back and follow closely behind them. He’s glad Viktor seems to know the way back to his room because he surely wouldn’t be able to navigate. It must be several minutes later that they arrive at his door, but Yuuri is no closer to being in his right mind. They both enter; maids are already bustling around, stoking the fire and setting up dinner.

“Ah, good. Everything is taken care of. Please, eat and get some rest.”

Viktor directs him to the chair in front of the fire and gestures for the food to be brought over. He gives Yuuri another one of those soft smiles and leans down to kiss his cheek. Yuuri feels the heat of his face flushing.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, my love.”

And then Viktor is gone.

It’s not until the maid is clearing his dishes and gives him a strange look that Yuuri realizes Viktor’s cloak is still draped over his shoulders.

* * *

Yuuri wakes to sunlight streaming through the windows. He bolts upright in a panic. Sunlight! Winter here means longer nights, which mean later sunrises, which mean his morning lessons often begin long before there’s natural light. He must be terribly late!

Springing out of bed, he rushes to dress himself. He can’t hear any attendants in adjoining rooms, not that he needs them to get ready for the day, but they are usually there to help anyway. They are the ones to wake him as well and that’s something he truly needs their assistance for. He doesn’t want to get anyone in trouble, but now _he’s_ going to be the one in trouble for being late.

He’s closing the door to his rooms behind him when he finally sees someone. Thankfully, she’s a familiar face, one of his personal attendants.

“Excuse me,” he begins hesitantly, “I seem to have overslept today. I had an etiquette lesson scheduled with—”

“Oh, that’s been cancelled, Your Highness.”

Yuuri’s stomach drops. Of course his tutors wouldn’t wait for him all day, but now he’s disappointed the harshest of them.

“All of your lessons today have been cancelled, on order of His Majesty,” the attendant adds.

“Um…” Yuuri doesn’t quite know how to respond.

“His Majesty has said you require some bedrest. Your schedule for today has been cleared, except the midday meal, where His Majesty will be joining you.”

Yuuri is still stunned into silence as she rushes him back into his rooms.

“We weren’t expecting you to awaken for another two hours at least! Now, let’s get your dressed properly before His Majesty arrives.”

A few more people seem to come out of the walls and fuss over him. They pluck at his shirt and straighten the collar, but can’t find anything to fix. He’s practically pushed into an armchair—the same one that Viktor guided him to last night—wrapped up in a blanket, and told to relax.

Sitting in this chair only makes his mind race, thinking of yesterday. Viktor was perfectly civil to his advisors and councillors until they said something he didn’t like. Then he turned cold with frozen anger. It was not once directed at Yuuri, but it’s only a matter of time before he messes up and he’s terrified at what kind of disproportionate punishment will befall him. Yesterday, two advisors spoke out of line and while one was simply chastised, the other was _executed_. Yuuri had hoped Viktor’s threats in the meeting chamber were exaggerations, but the gossip he heard during dinner indicated otherwise. In the situation with the chef, rumors flew numerous and wild because no one knew the truth. There’s only a single report for this one: the advisor was dragged down to the dungeons and beheaded with little fanfare.

And the whole matter is only made worse by the fact that Viktor’s coat is still draped over the back of the chair! Last night, Yuuri fretted for quite a while about why he left it. Did he forget it or was it deliberately left with Yuuri? If the latter is the case, then why? Did he simply want Yuuri to be warm? Or was it something more? Where Yuuri is from, giving a gift of something soaked in your scent is…well…

It’s ridiculous that he’s feeling so flustered by this when they’re already to be wed! It’s not supposed to be about romance or courting. It’s a political arrangement through which he gets protection for his nation in exchange for providing an heir. It doesn’t matter how attractive they find each other’s features or how appealing their scents are.

And yet Yuuri can’t stop wondering what Viktor thinks of those matters.

Before he can ponder the implications of thinking such a thing about a man he fears, the main door opens and a guard enters. The attendants still bustling around the room pause their work and snap to attention.

“Announcing His Majesty the King, Viktor Yakovitch Nikiforov, the first of his name.”

Viktor enters and the attendants bow and curtsey. Yuuri scrambles to his feet in a panic, belatedly remember the sitting rules.

“Don’t get up on my account,” Viktor says, walking straight to him.

Yuuri is halfway up, but he freezes. Which is more important: following protocol or obeying the orders of the king? He doesn’t have to think much longer as Viktor is standing over him, urging him to sit back down.

“You looked so warm and comfortable,” Viktor says as he arranges the blanket draped over Yuuri’s lap. Sitting down in the other armchair, he asks, “Did my cloak help you last night?”

Viktor’s eyes drift slightly up and to the left, spotting the cloak still over the back of the chair. Yuuri swears a slight flush appears across his face.

“I-It was very warm, thank you!”

“Pardon me, Your Majesty, Your Highness.” An attendant has approached the chairs and bows deeply. “Your meal is not yet ready, but please have some tea while you wait.”

A tea cart is pulled over and the attendant lifts the pot to pour them two cups. Yuuri can’t contain his gasp of surprise. The tea set is clearly from his own nation and, not only that, the design is also familiar. He helped his parents pick out that delicate blue and silver pattern for the tea set they planned to send as part of their offer.

“Oh, you recognize it? I’ve used it every day and already drank all the tea that was sent with it! I had to place another order,” Viktor says with—of all things—a _pout_ on his face.

“I’m honored,” Yuuri says, ducking his head. It truly is nice to hear Viktor speak well of his nation’s products.

With a slight blush still on his face, Yuuri adds some cream to his cup and waits for it to cool. He watches Viktor, interested in how he prepares his tea. He goes straight for a red jar, which Yuuri has always seen on the tray, but never touched. Viktor dips a spoon inside and comes up with jam! Viktor ladles spoonfuls into his cup; one, two, three. Yuuri watches with no small degree of morbid fascination. How is this the same man who ordered an execution yesterday?

His confusion must show on his face because Viktor laughs when he glances up. “I may have a bit of a sweet tooth. It was worse when I was younger. I would go through half a jar with every cup!”

Yuuri has heard stories about Viktor, but none of them have been from his childhood. He’s intensely curious, but also a bit scared. Could some event from when he was younger be the cause of Viktor’s cold anger?

Viktor’s eyes widen suddenly. “But I didn’t do this with the tea you sent! Of course not! It was very good without anything added, so I never tried.”

“It’s okay,” Yuuri reassures. “We don’t usually add anything to our tea, but it can often be quite bitter, so we eat something sweet before drinking. The sugar coats your mouth and makes the tea more pleasant.”

“Hmm, maybe next time I’ll take it after a spoonful of jam next time.”

An image of Viktor with a jar of jam in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, taking turns drinking from each, appears in Yuuri’s mind and he can’t help the small breath of laughter that falls from his lips. Viktor leans forward suddenly, looking very intense with his hand reaching for Yuuri’s face. Yuuri flinches, but Viktor’s fingers only tilt his chin to face him.

“W-what? I’m sorry, I—”

“No, don’t apologize. Never apologize for laughing. You look so beautiful when you smile. I wish I could see that look upon your face at all times.”

“I’ll try my best to keep it there,” Yuuri breathes, not knowing what else to say.

“No, _I’ll_ try my best to make you smile more often.” The way Viktor says it makes it sound like a royal decree.

Viktor’s thumb runs over Yuuri’s lower lip before withdrawing. He just knows his face is a flaming red.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around to do so before,” Viktor says, expression turning forlorn. “I have my duties, yes, but being your mate is one of them.”

Yuuri feels his face heat even more. That hits too close to what he was thinking before Viktor arrived.

“Yesterday, I was worried you were sick.” The depth of genuine emotion in Viktor’s voice surprises Yuuri enough that he meets his eyes. There’s a slight frown on his face and his brows are knit together in concern. “You seemed worn down, so I inquired into your schedule. I shouldn’t have asked you to attend the meeting.”

At those words, Yuuri’s stomach drops. Viktor sounded soft, but Yuuri must have misread the mood. He’s seen through Yuuri’s flimsy attempts at normalcy and competence and will dismiss him. It’s not exactly unexpected, but Yuuri can’t stop the shock of panic that floods through him. His hands start to shake.

“I had heard that your history tutor was sick, so I knew you didn’t have a lesson when we saw each other, but I was only thinking about what I wanted. I didn’t let you choose what to do with your own free time. You were probably looking forward to resting and instead I dragged you to a boring meeting.”

“It wasn’t boring!” Yuuri’s first and only thought is to reassure Viktor and deescalate the situation.

Viktor waves his hand. “Regardless, I shouldn’t have made that decision for you, so I decided to clear your schedule for the next few days. I’ll also be having a word with all your tutors about why it was so packed to begin with. You shouldn’t have been so busy!”

Is…is he not in trouble? He had no say over his schedule and that seems to be what Viktor is upset about, yet he can’t stop his hands from shaking. Yuuri lifts his cup, hoping the tea will help calm him.

“They were running you ragged!” Viktor shouts, slamming his palm down on the tea cart.

Yuuri jumps, his heart racing. He flinches again at the sound of shattering ceramic. Looking down in horror, he sees pieces of his cup on the floor. Viktor talked all about how he loved this set and now he’s broken a cup…

Before he even realizes it, Yuuri is on his knees, picking up the shards. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Your Majesty! I didn’t mean to. I’ll clean it up, Your Majesty!”

Viktor’s hands grasp his wrists, but he needs to fix this! He grips the shard in his hand tightly and there’s a flash of pain across his palm.

“Yuuri, I told you to STOP!”

He freezes.

Viktor pries at his fingers until he lets go. The piece falls to the floor, stained red. Viktor gasps, horrified, then shouts, “LEAVE!”

Yuuri flinches. Attendants are running to exit in the background and he tries to pull his hands from Viktor’s grasp, but can’t. How is he supposed to leave if Viktor won’t let go?!

“Yuuri, stop. You’re hurting yourself!” Viktor’s voice is pleading, not angry.

Yuuri stops, partly because he doesn’t want to make his impending punishment worse, but also because he’s confused. Why does Viktor sound concerned?

“Come with me.”

Viktor pulls him to his feet and heads toward the bathroom. That’s in the opposite direction of the door! Does Viktor not want him to leave? Why did he order him to, then? Perhaps Viktor wanted him alone to punish him properly. What terrible things does he have planned that he doesn’t even want the attendants to witness? By the time they enter the bathroom, Yuuri is hyperventilating.

“I-I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he gasps. “It was a mis-mistake. I’ll be better, I promise! Please don’t punish me, Your Majesty!”

Eyes widening, Viktor stops and releases his grip. He takes a step back. “What did you say?”

“I won-won’t do something like that again, Your Majesty. Give me another chance to prove myself, _please_. Your Majesty, I swear—”

Viktor’s hand slips under his chin and tilts his face up. Yuuri feels a tear run down his cheek.

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor whispers. He looks horrified. “Are…are you _scared_ of me?”

Yuuri can only avert his eyes and sob in response. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what Viktor _wants_ him to say. There’s only an obvious lie or a truth that will make him angry, that will make those blue eyes freeze over with dangerous ice.

Viktor turns away, lowering his head until he rests his forehead in his palm. “How could I have let you feel like this?”

That’s a rhetorical question, yet Yuuri finds himself answering anyway. “Yester-yesterday, w-with your advisors…”

“Yuuri, you’re worth so much more than them! Or a cup for that matter. I could never bring myself to hurt you. You must believe me!” Viktor implores.

It’s clear he’s frustrated, but it’s more at himself than at Yuuri.

“Please, I-I would never—how could I…” Viktor trails off and sighs. “I don’t know how to explain with words. Let me show you.”

Yuuri knows he’s not bad with words; there’s many stories about Viktor dominating negotiations with his silver tongue. How can he know exactly what to say then and yet be completely at a loss with Yuuri? Regardless, Yuuri wants to know what’s going on. He nods.

“First, we need to take care of your hand.” Viktor turns the tap on the sink. “Wash it and I’ll see if the healer has arrived yet.”

Viktor steps out of the bathroom and Yuuri puts his hand under the spray of water. It stings the cut on his palm. Only seconds later, Viktor returns with an out-of-breath healer. She thoroughly cleans his hand and examines it, finally declaring the cut shallow enough to only need bandages. Yuuri watches as she wraps it and nods along with her instructions to not grasp anything with this hand. Viktor nods seriously as well, taking Yuuri’s hand once the healer is finished to press a gentle kiss against the bandages.

When they exit the bathroom, attendants are back in the room, milling around and trying to appear as if they weren't just eavesdropping. Viktor leads them back to the arm chairs and takes his cloak from the back of one. Wrapping it around Yuuri, he addresses the room, “Apologies, but lunch will have to be postponed. We’ll visit the kitchen for food later. There is something more important we must take care of.”

The attendants murmur their assent and Viktor guides Yuuri out of the room. As much as Yuuri wants to know what’s going on, he doesn’t want to break the silence. Viktor still hasn’t spoken directly to him since the bathroom, though his arm rests securely over Yuuri’s shoulders. They walk, the guards trailing behind, until they stop rather arbitrarily in front of a door.

“In here,” Viktor says, taking a key out of his pocket and unlocking the room. “This is the artefact room. Everything in this room is an important part of our culture and the royal family’s history.”

Yuuri gapes in awe. The walls are covered in traditional paintings of both landscapes and monarchs. Even the intricate frames are works of art in their own rights. Laid out on tables is polished jewelry, elaborate writing sets, finely woven fabrics—the list goes on. Monetarily, the value of everything in this room must total more than what his own nation has in the treasury, but that’s not what Yuuri is the most impressed by. Many items must date back centuries and their worth in terms of history cannot be measured.

Viktor walks over to a grand tea set. “My great-great-grandmother was given this as a coronation gift from a family of noble craftsmen. Over the generations, it has been through a lot: wars…fires…younger children who didn’t know any better. As you can imagine, it hasn’t always come out whole. All pieces but one are replicas. Only this single cup has survived of the original set.”

Viktor picks it up, turning it slowly to admire the design on all sides. He suddenly tosses it to Yuuri, who just barely manages to grasp it with his uninjured hand.

“Please be careful, Your Majesty! I could have drop—”

“Throw it on the ground.”

“WHAT!?”

“Smash it, break it, I don’t care. This cup means nothing to me compared to you.”

A ringing silence follows. Yuuri can’t comprehend what Viktor is telling him to do. This tea set must be what he wanted to show him, but why is he telling him to _break_ it now?

“While I dearly love this tea set and also the one you sent me, I care far more about _you_. You were terrified of being punished before, so break this now and see that I won’t hurt you,” Viktor explains. “My love, you could destroy everything in this room and I would be helpless to lift a finger to stop you. I don’t even want to think about laying my hands on you in such a way.”

Viktor’s voice is raw with honesty. Yuuri can see the pain in his eyes, not at the thought of the cup being broken, but at Yuuri being afraid of him. There’s no ice; there hasn’t been this entire time nor at any other point they’ve interacted. When Viktor became cold yesterday…it was because those advisors had spoken badly of Yuuri, one implying he shouldn't be at the meeting and the other that he shouldn’t have been chosen as consort at all. Viktor did all of that to defend his honor. Several things have fallen into place now and Yuuri’s entire view changes. The tenderness with which Viktor treats him is real and here he is, telling Yuuri to destroy a precious possession to prove it. Viktor has laid himself bare, fully prepared to let Yuuri hurt him. This is something Yuuri can understand even with all his doubts.

“I don’t want to.” Yuuri carefully sets the cup back into its place. “I-I can’t.”

It is Viktor’s turn to be stunned speechless. Finally, he manages, “‘Can’t?’”

“You just said you love it! It’s important to you and your culture. I can’t break it and hurt you.” He no doubt sounds hysterical and he can feel his own eyes tearing up. Why was Viktor so willing to let Yuuri hurt him!

“Oh, _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor breathes, cupping Yuuri’s cheeks. Viktor holds his face still so he can press his lips to Yuuri’s forehead. “You’re so incredibly precious. I’m sorry I let you be scared of me for this long without doing anything. And I only hope you don’t feel that way now.”

“My whole life, I’ve heard so many stories about you, about the mysterious ruler of the neighboring kingdom,” Yuuri says, feeling some confidence and security in what he’s saying for the first time since he arrived. “They scared me. They all made you out to be a monster.”

Viktor’s face falls. “I know what some people like to say about me.”

“But now I see that’s not who you are!” Yuuri adds quickly. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me and I was too blinded by fear to truly see that.”

“I’m still to blame for your fear of me in the first place.”

“Then I want to know the _real_ you. I want new stories.”

Viktor draws Yuuri into an embrace, enfolding his arms around him. Melting into Viktor’s chest, Yuuri brings his own arms up to wrap around him in return. A scant few weeks ago he never could have imagined he would be standing here, wearing the king’s cloak while they embraced. Was everything really this much of a misunderstanding?

Viktor clutches him closer. “You’re _so precious_. Do you know why I chose you over all the others?”

Yuuri shakes his head.

“It was your scent. The samples sent to me…most reeked of greed and malice. They wanted my power and riches and would stop at nothing to get them. I don’t need rats like that in my kingdom, much less in my marriage bed. But your scent…it was _pure_. You only desired the betterment of your people. There was no anger or jealousy or selfishness. It was _always_ you. It couldn’t have been anyone else.”

“ _Oh_ …” Yuuri assumed he was chosen for his scent, but always imagined it was for shallow reasons; he smelled sweet or fertile and Viktor desired that. He never considered something like this.

“You care about your people and were willing to sacrifice so much for them. That’s a quality of a _leader_ ,” Viktor says, finally pulling back. He cups Yuuri’s face again. “I would be honored for you to stand by my side.”

This is unheard of. A consort having political power? It’s crazy!

And yet Yuuri finds himself nodding in agreement.

He wants this, too. A royal in his own right, he’s studied his entire life for this. He was willing to give it all up, but being presented with a choice now it’s no contest.

A smile breaks across Viktor’s face. “There is only one thing I will ask of you that I expect you to obey without question: you must call me ‘ _Viktor_.’ Hearing you call me ‘Your Majesty’ earlier was like a dagger being driven through my heart. ‘Your Majesty’ is that terrifying king you’ve heard about in those stories. ‘Viktor’ is the man who loves you.”

“Of course, Viktor,” Yuuri says, tearfully.

It’s the easiest thing that’s been asked of him since he arrived.

* * *

He spends the next few days relaxing, not doing much more than eating meals with Viktor. It lasts just long enough that he’s starting to get restless by the time his new schedule is reinstated. It’s far less busy and he can actually take in all the information being thrown at him. He expresses his gratitude to Viktor at dinner, but he waves it off, saying it was yet another thing he neglected to take care of for too long.

* * *

Viktor comes to one of his dance lessons. They need to learn a stiff, formal dance for the wedding, but Viktor seems more interested in literally sweeping him off his feet. They fly across the floor in a foxtrot, laughing whether they keep pace or fall over each other. The Madame is not impressed by their antics, though she doesn’t dare say anything to the king. In the end, they compose themselves enough to learn the dance, but Yuuri much prefers their own.

The next day, Viktor brings him back to the dance hall after dinner and they don’t leave until the candles have burnt down to the brackets.

* * *

The tea Viktor ordered arrives and they drink it in the way Yuuri suggested. Yuuri delights in the familiar sweets dissolving in his mouth and even the bite of bitterness in the tea. Viktor seems to enjoy it, as well, even if Yuuri suspects he just wants more of the sweets. He still gives the last of them to Yuuri, though he chases it with his tongue, smearing the sweetness over their lips as they meet in their first kiss.

* * *

The library has become a common retreat for them. Even if they start with reading, they inevitably end up talking in not-so-hushed tones. Yuuri would feel guilty about it if the other guests didn’t all flee the moment Viktor entered. That’s probably something he could feel guilty about, too, but he settles for just being happy their conversation doesn’t disturb anyone. Besides, he’s usually studying and most of the noise is him reading books aloud. Their nations have entirely different alphabets, and both of those are even different from that of the common tongue. His language tutor isn’t very helpful, often outright refusing to assist him in understanding the characters. Well…he _wasn’t_ very helpful would be more accurate as Yuuri hasn’t seen him since his schedule changed, which eliminated the language lessons completely. They seem to have been replaced with this, reading in the library with Viktor. Yuuri can’t exactly complain.

“Try reading this one today,” Viktor says, handing him a book. The cover is a deep red, the title in embossed gold. “I’ve even marked a page to start on.”

Yuuri takes the book and sits in his chair. He reads the title, deciphering the characters and then translating the word in his head. _E—Er—EROS_? He can feel his face heating. Dismissing the strangeness, he opens to the page where a piece of ribbon is placed.

“Here? Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s more than halfway through the book. I won’t know what’s going on or who the characters are.”

Viktor waves his hand. “That’s not important in this book. Just start at the next chapter.”

Sighing, Yuuri removes the ribbon and sets to reading aloud. Once he establishes a steady rhythm, he starts actually paying attention to the meaning of the words. It quickly becomes apparent that, in this scene, one character is about to deflower another! Viktor gave him a romance novel to read!

Yuuri can feel his face heating and see Viktor leaning forward eagerly out of the corner of his eye. He’s waiting for a reaction! Doing his best to maintain composure and keep reading at a steady pace, Yuuri thinks of a way to retaliate. Viktor is teasing him, but two can play at that game.

There’s a paragraph break right before the act is to be done and Yuuri pauses.

“What’s wrong, my love?” Viktor asks innocently, though a smirk plays on his lips.

“It’s just this chair. It’s rather uncomfortable. I think a change of seating arrangements is in order.” Hardly believing he’s even doing this, Yuuri stands and walks the short distance to Viktor’s chair to sit down in his lap. Struggling more than ever to keep his voice even, he simply says, “That’s better.”

Viktor is stock-still beneath him. Gone is the amused smile and teasing tilt of his head. Yuuri settles to rest his head on Viktor’s shoulder and carries on reading. The scene finally ends with a fade to black on the pair cuddling in bed. Yuuri closes the book with a snap.

“What a lovely story,” he says, monotone.

Viktor shifts uncomfortably. “I suppose I deserved that.”

* * *

“Must we be outside to do this?!”

It’s _freezing_ and Yuuri doesn’t appreciate being dragged away from the fire, no matter how childishly excited Viktor is— _especially_ on his birthday.

“Your skates are finally here and just in time. You simply must try it!”

“Yes, yes, you’ve been saying that, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

This trail through the trees isn’t well-maintained and he slips and slides on the snow as he tries to keep up with Viktor. He’s practically running, pulling Yuuri behind him by their joined hands. Finally, they come to a clearing in the trees. A fair number of palace occupants are gathered here, most around a large bonfire. Yuuri eyes them enviously as Viktor drags him over to a bench. Why can’t he even do what he wants on his own birthday! The bench sits in front of the frozen lake and all thoughts of the fire are wiped from his mind.

People…people are _dancing_ on the ice! There are blades on their shoes and they glide smoothly over the surface. Some are even twirling and spinning!

“Ice skating!” Viktor declares.

It’s _wonderful_. Yuuri _has_ to try it! He can’t stop staring even as Viktor directs him to sit on the bench. Attendants scuttle over with two boxes, blocking his view. He can’t bring himself to be upset as Viktor opens one, revealing a pair of shiny black boots with gleaming silver blades.

“Happy birthday, my love. I ordered skates for you as soon as I knew your shoe size, but this level of craftsmanship takes time.” Viktor takes one out of the box and holds it up. “They’re well worth the wait.”

“Thank you, Viktor!” Yuuri says. How did he know the skating would enrapture him this much? Viktor opens the top of the boots and Yuuri pushes his feet into them, then watches as Viktor laces them up with great care.

The second box is presented to Viktor and he takes out his own pair of boots, though their blades are colored _gold_. They can’t be solid—gold is far too soft a metal for this purpose—but Yuuri bets anything that they’re at least coated with it.

Viktor catches him staring. “If you like skating, then we can get you a custom pair next year.”

Yuuri nods eagerly. He’s so sure he’ll like it. He wants to be able to move like the skaters on the ice! His enthusiasm dampens a little as he stands and immediately has to sit back down, too wobbly on the thin blades. Viktor poorly conceals a laugh and helps him to stand. Yuuri clings tightly to his arm. Walking in the skates is so awkward. No matter how much he wants to be graceful, he just knows he’s going to make a fool out of himself the moment he sets foot on the ice.

“I won’t let you fall,” Viktor says, sensing his nervousness. “Just stay close to me.”

Yuuri nods. He lets Viktor guide him forward with small steps, the crunch of the snow giving way to the solidness of the ice. Viktor does most of the work to pull them forward and Yuuri tries to match his foot movements. Steadily, he finds a rhythm and his death grip on Viktor’s arm loosens. Viktor shifts to take his hand and they skate together, side-by-side.

“Do you think you can stand on your own?” Viktor asks him after a few turns around the pond.

Yuuri swallows nervously. “Maybe?”

“I want to show you something, but I have to let go to do it.”

“Okay. I’ll try.” He can’t deny Viktor, not when he looks this excited.

Viktor kisses his forehead and slowly drops his hand. He makes sure Yuuri is steady before skating away. Other skaters clear the area as Viktor picks up speed. Yuuri watches in awe as a suddenly _jumps_ , turning in the air twice before he lands with nary a wobble, arms outstretched for balance. Everyone bursts into applause and Yuuri quickly joins in.

“That was incredible!” he gasps as Viktor returns to his side.

“I can teach you,” Viktor says. He leans down to kiss Yuuri on his lips, heedless of the others around them.

“Really?”

“Of course! I would like nothing more than to skate with you.”

Yuuri can’t imagine he’ll ever be able to do _that_ , but he’ll gladly spend time in lessons with Viktor. They continue skating and he lets Viktor correct his stance with gentle hands. Soon, he’s able to skate on his own. It’s far from graceful, but Viktor seems so proud. He lifts him up while they’re still on the ice and spins around. Yuuri’s shriek of surprise turns to one of delight. Viktor’s eyes sparkle as he looks up at him.

He once thought the blue of those eyes was simply thin ice hiding terrifying depths beneath it. How wrong he was. All those stories he heard about Viktor led him to believe that, but now he has new stories to replace it. He knows now that Viktor’s eyes are the blue of a clear winter day, rare to see and all the more beautiful for it.

* * *

Their wedding ceremony was lovely—or at least Yuuri assumes it was. He really can’t remember much of it, too anxious for anything more than trying to keep standing. Viktor was a calming, guiding presence beside him, subtly cueing him when he had to speak or move. He managed to say all the foreign phrases correctly. Though he no longer fears the consequences, it still would have been a great embarrassment for his clumsy tongue to have marred his new kingdom’s native language.

He can only make assumptions about smaller ceremony for his coronation that was held immediately after. Only a few select nobles and witnesses were allowed to attend, but Yuuri was far more nervous. Viktor wasn’t by his side this time. Again, he managed, somehow on his own.

Once that was finished, they were whisked away to the reception—thankfully allowed to change into something less elaborate and much lighter—where they spent what felt like ten hours greeting guests: ordained clergy, local nobles, foreign royals. Yuuri knew which of them had been rejected candidates for consort by the sour glares they cast his way. He couldn’t bring himself to feel intimidated, seeing the icy smiles Viktor gave in return.

Finally, they were allowed to sit and dinner was served. He and Viktor sat at the head table, their respective families on either side. He was so grateful that his parents and sister were able to attend, though they had asked him endless questions about his happiness and treatment when they had first arrived. While he understood their concern, Yuuri couldn’t help but feel defensive. Viktor had treated him with only care and kindness. Seeing them interact had reassured them at Yuuri’s words were true, however.

When many had had their fill, Yuuri and Viktor were directed to the middle of the hall and performed that dreadful and stiff traditional dance. Once they finished, however, the music turned livelier and the style of dance loosened. More drink was brought out and it flowed plenty and delicious. This particular part of the day was even more of a blur, blending the crisp taste of champagne on his tongue into whirling on the dance floor on Viktor’s arms.

Now they’re making their exit from the hall. Guests line their path, bowing and curtseying with murmurs of “Your Majesty” and “Your Highness.” The revelry has paused only for this; Yuuri knows the party will continue without them, but there are certain duties that must be completed, as per their marriage contract. Yuuri has known this was coming since he learned he was chosen, but he still feels unprepared. He and Viktor ignored this topic in all their conversations and now he wishes that they could have discussed it at least once. It’s not that he doesn’t want to do this with Viktor. _Those_ kinds of thoughts have occupied him for long hours and he’s well aware of the fact that they both desire each other. He knows Viktor will take care of him.

They enter the royal bedchambers, where the true reason for his apprehension waits: the contingent of clergy, healers, advisors, guards, and attendants gathered to bear witness to their joining. Yuuri would be self-conscious enough with just Viktor seeing him, but all of these people…

They are announced to the group, complete with Yuuri’s new titles, and Viktor shifts closer to him. Just that small gesture calms him somewhat. They’ll be going through this together and he still trusts Viktor. He won’t let anything happen to him.

Their “instructions” are read to them. They’re no different from what Yuuri has been told in lessons: they must both…complete, including a knot, and bite each other at that moment to establish the mating bond. He also remembers the advice he was also told at that time: lay back and endure it. The beta women who told him this didn’t seem all that enthused about carnal matters and Yuuri hopes their mates’ performances are the exception. He wants to enjoy this with Viktor.

With those formalities taken care of, they can begin. Viktor steps in front of him, taking his hands. He lifts the right one to press a kiss to the golden ring now glinting on his finger. From his look, Yuuri knows he can tell how nervous he is. Yuuri envies how he can look so confident even in a situation like this.

Viktor releases his hands and begins to shed his clothes, completely uncaring of the people watching them. Yuuri supposes that, as the king, there’s very little for him to feel self-conscious about. He himself has never felt that self-conscious about being nude around others; however, the context of the situation are important. There were no implications about nudity in the onsen: it was for bathing and relaxing. This is something else entirely.

“Yuuri,” Viktor whispers, drawing him out of his thoughts. Viktor stands naked before him. “Are you okay? If you’re uncomfortable, I will get rid of them at once. Just say the word.”

“Your Majesty—” someone starts, but Viktor flashes the whole group an icy stare.

Yuuri knows Viktor would do it. He would go against this whole ceremony, an important part of establishing their alliance, for _him_. It would sow distrust and start rumors, but Viktor would do it for him. Yuuri can’t let him, can’t let a little discomfort stop him. It’s part of being a ruler, doing things he doesn’t entirely want to do.

“I’m nervous, but…I’m with you. That makes it better.”

“Better, but not okay?”

Yuuri bites his lip and glances over at the group. He can’t lie when it’s so obvious.

“I’ll protect you. Don’t think about them. Look only at me.”

Viktor kisses him deeply, chasing all other thoughts from his mind. He’s hardly aware as Viktor tugs at his clothes, pulling until they fall into a heap on the floor. Viktor takes a step forward, which forces him back. They keep going until they fall upon the bed, Viktor on top of him. Urging him to lay back on the bed, Viktor settles between his thighs with a predatory look.

“Just relax. Let me pleasure you.”

Confused by the position, Yuuri only wonders what he means for a moment before Viktor’s head descends upon him, mouth pressing against to his folds, kissing and sucking, lighting up sensations Yuuri didn’t even know were possible. He finds himself clutching at Viktor’s hair to pull him closer as he writhes. Viktor’s hand comes up to grasp his cocklet and he moves his mouth to close around the head. Yuuri throws his head back, whining. He feels oversensitized, his nerve-endings sparking with every swipe of Viktor’s tongue, every brush of his lips. He can even feel the slick pooling and dripping from his hole. He can’t take much more of this!

Viktor finally pulls away, licking his lips and looking very satisfied with himself. With that predatory smile spreading across his face again, he crawls up Yuuri’s body. He doesn’t say anything, for which Yuuri is grateful; he’s far too breathless to form a response. Viktor leans in to kiss him and Yuuri doesn’t even mind the taste of himself. He feels Viktor’s cock between his legs, sliding easily against his skin with all the slick.

“Are you ready?” Viktor whispers against his lips.

Yuuri presses back into the kiss. Viktor’s body completely covers his own. The group must only be able to see his legs and he can’t bring himself to mind that. All Viktor’s ministrations have awakened his desires. “ _Yes_.”

The kiss deepens and Viktor’s cock nudges forward, resting against his hole. Viktor pushes in. Gasping, Yuuri clutches at Viktor’s shoulders, desperately trying not to lose himself. Viktor’s size and girth are almost overwhelming and there’s still more he has to take. Finally, Viktor’s hips are flush with the backs of Yuuri’s thighs.

“Are you okay?” Viktor whispers, holding him close.

Yuuri doesn’t know. He still feels like he’s spiralling, needing more time to adjust. It’s too much and not enough at the same time and he doesn’t know what to do.

“I-I—m-move,” Yuuri whimpers, hardly aware of what he’s even saying, but knowing he _wants_ it. When Viktor doesn’t follow his order right away, he tries to lift his own hips, though he doesn’t get very far with how pinned down he is.

Viktor moans above him at the movement. “Are you sure?”

“P-please…”

Viktor pulls out slowly and then pushes back inside. Yuuri nearly shouts. The rhythm picks up. It becomes a steady churning, stirring the heat building low in Yuuri’s belly. Viktor holds him with such care and tenderness, and yet rams into him with such single-mindedness. Yuuri muffles a moan into Viktor’s shoulder.

It hardly feels like any time at all before Yuuri is shuddering his way through an orgasm. He’s never felt sensations quite like this and is unable to hold himself back. Above him, Viktor growls before thrusting in one more time and spilling deep inside him. His knot inflates, stretching Yuuri even more. Viktor is locked there, keeping everything trapped inside him, and Yuuri feels his cock twitch despite having just come.

He gasps as Viktor’s teeth find his scent gland, nibbling at the junction of his neck and shoulder. With that little warning, Viktor bites down. Yuuri gasps, eyes wide but unseeing, throat working but not producing sound. It should be painful, yet there’s only pleasure coursing through his veins, pleasure and something he knows to be _Viktor_. He wants himself to be part of Viktor as well. Driven by instinct, he lifts his head and seeks out Viktor’s scent gland, delivering a bite of his own.

A complete bond…there’s no words to describe it. It’s like he can feel Viktor’s mind brushing up against his own. It’s barely glimpses of thoughts and feelings, but it’s  _t_ _here_. He knows that Viktor is there and thinking of him and that…that he _loves_ him.

Yuuri doesn’t know how long they lay there, trying to catch their breath, but eventually Viktor pushes himself up slightly. Yuuri whines in protest.

“Shh, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” Viktor soothes, embellishing it with kisses. He leans up just enough to glance behind him. “Satisfied? Leave us!”

The groups murmurs, but Yuuri can also hear them shuffle out. Even though he barely spared a thought for them during the act itself, he’s glad for them to go. With the bond new and buzzing in his mind, he only wants to be with Viktor right now.

Viktor nuzzles at his neck, at his new bond mark. “Yuuri…wonderful, you’re so wonderful.”

“No, Viktor, _you_ were wonderful!” Yuuri says, trying to find words to properly express his thoughts. “I never expected anything to feel as good as that.”

Viktor smiles fondly. “I only wish to make it better in the future.”

There are still many, many words floating though his mind, yet only three come bursting to the surface. “I love you.”

He expected to be nervous or scared to say those words, but with the bond he _knows_ Viktor returns his feelings.

Sure enough, Viktor is smiling and diving back for a kiss.

“I love you, too.”

They roll onto their sides, content to cuddle. For the moment. Yuuri can already feel the knot going down, bringing a most-unwelcome empty feeling with it and that simply won’t do.

* * *

Yuuri strolls down a corridor, stretching his legs properly for the first time in about a week. He was put on bedrest after showing the beginnings of illness, upon Viktor’s insistence. Yuuri allowed it only because lying in bed and reading all day was far easier than having Viktor fuss over him. He turns, this corridor lined by tall windows that allow sunlight to stream through and he basks in the warmth. It won’t be around for much longer, with winter approaching. That means cold and snow, but with those also comes ice and skating. Every season brings something new and invigorating. There’s never a dull moment here, especially since Anna. She’s brought five years of excitement, laughter, terror, _love_ , and so much more into their lives. Judging by her late September birthday, they believe she was conceived during their very first shared heat and rut, which happened only a few weeks after their wedding and bonding, right in time for Viktor’s birthday.

Yuuri hasn’t seen much of her the past week, due to his sickness. Even though it was mild, he was still concerned about exposing her to it. Now the healers have deemed him noncontagious and well enough to walk around so Yuuri just wants to see his daughter. Her history lesson must be finished by now. It was held in the artefact room today, to help her learn about some of the pieces in there.

The path to that room is very familiar to Yuuri and he can’t help but think about the first time he visited it. With a small smile on his face at that memory, he starts to make his way there. He turns off of the sunny hallway and pulls his cloak around him tighter at the chill. This cloak was a birthday present from Viktor, the first one of their marriage. It’s in the same style as the one Yuuri appropriated for himself, only in a navy blue instead of the deep magenta of the original. The fit is much better and Viktor scents it frequently to make sure Yuuri is surrounded by that familiar comfort.

It doesn’t take long to reach the door. The guard standing outside it snaps to attention and bows in greeting, saluting to Yuuri’s guards as well. Yuuri opens the door, calling, “Anna—”

He quickly cuts off as he sees her standing by a table, hunched over in a way that Yuuri knows she’s crying. Waving at the guards to stay back, he hurries over to her and kneels to check for injuries. She’s hiding her hand behind her back, not letting him look at it, which worries him.

“Are you okay? What happened? Why are you crying?”

She sniffles and finally looks at him with red-rimmed eyes. With a small voice, she says, “I b-broke it.”

“Broke what?” Yuuri asks, a hundred possibilities rushing through his mind. Did she break her arm? Her hand? What if she can’t write? How did this happen?!

Anna simply shakes her head, sending a thousand more thoughts flying. They’ve always been very open with each other. Yuuri doesn’t know what could be holding her back now, only that it must be bad.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

It takes some more coaxing, but Anna finally brings her hand around to the front. Clutched in it is a handkerchief that Yuuri unwraps with trepidation. Inside is bits of ceramic, the pattern on the shattered pieces familiar.

“I broke it! I broke the cup!”

Yuuri looks at the table next to them, already knowing he’s going to see a grand tea set with a single cup—the last remaining original piece—missing.

“I learned about it today and just wanted to look at it, but then I d-d-dropped it.”

Anna dissolves into sobs once more and Yuuri pulls her close. He feels a bit numb himself. That cup was an important part of the royal family’s history and now it’s gone.

“Papa’s going to be s-so _sad_.”

Despite everything, Yuuri smiles. He was already thinking about the day Viktor first took him into this room, but it just became more relevant. At the time, he was convinced Viktor would have him exiled or executed for breaking a cup! He was so terrified, harboring a fear of Viktor that he hasn’t even felt a flicker of since that day. Thankfully, their daughter has _never_ held a fear like that for her father. Her first thoughts upon breaking this cup—infinitely more important and irreplaceable than the one Yuuri broke—is not that Viktor will be angry. It never even occurred to her. She only thinks that he will be _sad_.

Yuuri has plenty of proof that Viktor is an excellent father, yet he gives him more every day.

He just holds his daughter, soothing her until she stops crying. She’s so distraught it takes quite a while. Any mention of how it’s going to be okay only seems to remind her of what happened and it begins all over again. It’s been long enough that Viktor has apparently come searching for them.

There’s a commotion outside the front door, the guards echoing greetings of, “Your Majesty.” A short knock on the door is the only warning before it opens. Viktor takes one look at them, huddled and embracing on the floor, before rushing over. “What happened? Are you both all right?”

Yuuri just nods and nudges Anna to sit up. She shakes her head.

“Anna, papa’s here,” he says. “You should talk with him.”

She only clings to him tighter.

Viktor is beside himself, eyes wild and hands hovering. Not getting a response from their daughter, he asks Yuuri, “Is she okay? Did she get hurt? What’s wrong?”

“She’s okay,” Yuuri says to calm Viktor, though he doesn’t add anything else. Anna needs to say this for herself, to see Viktor’s reaction, just like he did.

Turning back to Anna, Viktor implores, “Darling, what happened? Please, talk to me.”

Anna finally pulls her face from Yuuri’s shoulder. She looks at Viktor tearfully and holds out her hand. Viktor gasps, picking up the handkerchief—only to drop it on the floor. He cradles Anna’s hand instead.

“Are you okay, darling? Where are you hurt?”

Shaking her head, Anna looks confused. “I’m not hurt, but the cup…”

“Oh, I don’t care about that old thing! I care about _you_!” Viktor scoops Anna into his arms, holding her close. “You’re so much more important…”

Viktor trails off and looks over at Yuuri. They share a smile, an understanding of the similarities passing between them. Viktor stands, picking Anna up with him.

“Look at this whole tea set,” he says gently, gesturing to it. “What can you tell me about those other cups?”

“They’re all rep-repel-replicas.” Anna stumbles over the unfamiliar word.

“That’s right. They’ve been broken and replaced. And look! Can you even tell the difference?” Viktor picks up a cup and holds it up to Anna. She shakes her head. “No, of course not! It’s easy to replace them. Guess what’s not?”

Anna looks confused. Her brow furrows as she thinks.

“ _You_ ,” Viktor finally says. “You and your tou-san.”

Viktor holds his arm out for Yuuri. While he’s always content to just watch the two of them together, he’s can’t resist an invitation to join. He steps into the embrace, wrapping an arm around Viktor and Anna each.

“The two of you are the most important people to me. If one of these cups breaks, I will replace it. If one of you gets hurt and…I don’t know I would do. You mean _everything_ to me.”

“So…you’re not sad?”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Then absolutely not.” Viktor nuzzles the top of Anna’s head, lightly scenting her.

She squirms and laughs, then shrieks, “Get tou-san next!”

Viktor pulls Yuuri in closer, rubbing against his cheek. Yuuri can’t stop his own laughter from bubbling up and he only makes token attempts to push Viktor away.

“Now,” Viktor says, “let’s get someone to clean that up properly and we’ll go have some dinner, how does that sound?”

“Can we have katsudon!?”

As delicious as that sounds, Yuuri has to intervene. His daughter has gained a love for the dish that rivals his own since their last visit to his home nation. It’s gotten quite out of hand. “What did you have for lunch?”

Anna pouts at him and that’s enough of an answer.

“We’ll have something with vegetables for dinner,” Yuuri says, glancing at Viktor for support, but he’s already backing him up.

“You want to be queen someday, right, darling?” Viktor asks.

“Of course!”

“Well, queens eat all their vegetables.” It’s said just as seriously as when Viktor imparts actual advice.

Anna immediately focuses. “I want _every_ vegetable for dinner!”

“Even green peppers?” Yuuri asks teasingly.

Her nose wrinkles, but Anna nods with determination.

“What a good queen she’ll be, don’t you think, my love?” Viktor pulls him close as they walk toward the door.

Yuuri hums in agreement and lets a mischievous smile creep across his lips, one he knows Viktor doesn’t miss. “You know what will help her learn even more responsibility?”

“What?” Viktor asks, eager as always to hear his counsel.

Leaning up, Yuuri whispers in his ear, “Being a big sister…”

When he moves back, he sees Viktor’s eyes have lit up.

“We can get started on that right after dinner, if you want,” he purrs.

As they walk to the kitchens, Yuuri thinks about all the stories he’s heard about the ruler of the neighboring kingdom, the ones that paint him as a vicious, unforgiving tyrant, and compares them to all the memories he has with Viktor, the ones that show him to be a loving, compassionate mate and father. One of them is merely a mask he wears and the other is his true self. Yuuri is one of the very few people to know the true Viktor and he can’t be more honored.

**Author's Note:**

> Any guesses? It may be rather obvious by this point...
> 
> (Edit: I've been found out! I'm glad you enjoyed it, Nye! <3)


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